


What Kind Of Man

by bellwetherr



Series: All This And Heaven Too [1]
Category: The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: Bros Will Be Bros, Dudes Will Be Dudes, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24936049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellwetherr/pseuds/bellwetherr
Summary: Inspired by two prompts from #TLKFanFicFestLife among the Coccham crew is never boring. With teases of finding a good woman, the bonds of being bastards, and being lucky enough to be placed on firewood duty during an attack by Danes, Osferth learns what he is willing to do to protect his brothers in arms. He learns what kind of man he really is.
Series: All This And Heaven Too [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805026
Comments: 20
Kudos: 48
Collections: The Last Kingdom Fanfic Fest





	What Kind Of Man

There was a hint of pink in the sky, the sun barely ready for its descent but already finding its way to illuminate the horizon. The pinks and golds seemed to reflect off of the valley before them, leaving a twinkling effect in the grasses and wildflowers as they approached. It was too picturesque, a quiet joke perhaps, considering the destruction they had only just left behind in Bedanford. Osferth found himself squinting as they rode, his horse lagging behind just slightly from Finan and Sihtric as they rode ahead. He loosened his grip on the reins, letting one hand shade his eyes as they descended along the path of a brook, the water seeming to simmer as it gently flowed along, as if it was leading them back to Winchester. 

Uhtred had rode off after the battle, a visit to his brother’s grave he was certain he must take alone. This left Osferth, Finan, and Sihtric alone to ride back to Winchester, Beocca taking off at his first opportunity to meet Hild and prepare for Thrya’s burial.

Their arrival could not come quickly enough, the conversation between two of his closest friends devolving further and further with every mile covered. At this precise moment, Osferth was the prime topic, or rather - his apparent _need_ of a good woman. 

His companions had managed to weed through a few already and were currently mulling over the idea of the forge master’s daughter, a lovely young woman but Osferth had not once found himself thinking of her as anything more than a friendly face in the village. 

“I dunno about that one,” Finan shook his head. “I mighta, ya know-”

“If that’s a rule, Coccham would hardly have anyone left,” Sihtric laughed.

“Now, that’s untoward,” Finan huffed a breath. “There are plenty of women I’ve not laid with.”

“The old ones?” Sihtric suggested.

“The ones with husbands bigger than you?” Osferth offered. 

“Precisely,” the Irishman replied and there was a beat before his shoulders started to shake with laughter and Osferth could see the pink settling into his neck as they joined him. 

“Oh- what about Ursula, from the alehouse?” Sihtric asked suddenly.

“The one with the dragon tattoo?” Osferth mused. 

“It is nice work,” the Dane nodded.

“I do not think I’m ready for that,” he said simply. 

“Erm, she’d be off the list, anyway-” Finan said as he tilted his head. 

“Ursula, too?” Sihtric questioned, exasperated.

“No, no-” the Irishman shook his head, his hand reaching to scratch at the back of his neck briefly. “It’s not that- she, uh- well, she’s more interested in laying with women, it turns out-”

“So, she turned you down,” Sihtric nodded. 

“Aye,” Finan said, before he turned to look at Sihtric with narrowed eyes. “But that’s not why I’m sayin’ that, I mean, it is how I learned it, but Osferth would not gather even a wink.” 

“I would choose to lay with a woman over you, too, Finan,” Osferth said brightly. 

“Ya wound me, baby monk,” the Irishman replied.

The sky grew darker around them and they were too far from a village to find an inn for the night, so they would set camp near the edge of the wood, just in enough to grant them coverage but also keep them close to the trail. It was Osferth’s turn to gather the wood for the fire and after seeing to his horse and setting down his pack, he ventured deeper into the forest. He tread carefully over rock and root, his boots sinking into the soft earth as he kept his eyes out for wood dry enough, remembering the lecture he’d gotten from Finan the very first time it was his turn and all his kindling was still wet from rain that had fallen the night before. 

He scratched at his forehead, a wound still fresh from battle beginning to itch. Bedanford had been a victory for Edward, his first in his kingship, and already it was in debt to Uhtred. Osferth wondered how much of Wessex’s success was built off the back of his Lord, how much his father, and now half-brother, owed to the half-Dane, half-Saxon. The feeling sat in the pit of his stomach, knowing that in some way his life would forever be tied to men who would not acknowledge his existence. 

He plucked his axe from his belt and swung against a broken tree branch, thick enough to suit his needs. The wood split and it was not until he was scooping it up in his arms that he heard the commotion, the frantic whinnying of horses and shouting. 

“Not one peaceful night,” he muttered as he turned back toward the camp.

He was careful to keep his trek silent as he reached the clearing, letting his feet sink into the mud to avoid any snapped twigs or especially dried leaves, anything that could ruin the element of surprise. He looked down at the bundle of kindling in his hands and sighed as he dropped the collection quietly at his feet. He would not win any fights with a log of wood.

“Oh, yer a big man, aren’t ya-” 

Finan’s voice was dripping with a sarcasm that brought a slight smile to Osferth’s face. He could not fathom baiting an opponent but he always did appreciate the Irishman’s unwillingness to back down. Still, as he heard a grunt of pain catch in Finan’s throat, he knew it did not come without consequences. 

Osferth edged closer, keeping tight to a large ash tree, his eyes trying to find his friends through the darkness. Blessing the full moon as it shined down in the clearing, Osferth could make out four, maybe five Danes crowding around Sihtric and Finan, the Irishman on his knees as the Dane in front of him brandished a familiar weapon - Finan’s sword. The Dane was tall, built, a black haired beast of a man with tattoos crawling from his neck to his jaw. 

“Cnut promised us victory, land, and silver,” the Dane spat out. “And what did we get but a foolish defeat? We want what was promised to us-”

“Will killing us and taking our camp give you what was promised?” Sihtric asked innocently.

“It will make you less of a pest,” another Dane snapped. 

“Probably true,” Finan said with a shrug of his shoulder. 

“It will give us the Dane Slayer,” the black haired Dane said as he pointed Finan’s sword at his chest. “Killing you fools will make him weaker and make that shit king of yours weaker, too-”

Osferth gripped at the handle of his axe as he inched past the tree trunk and into the clearing, careful to keep himself behind the Dane nearest to him, using the coverage of the heavy ash branches to stay hidden. He noted the dagger in Sihtric’s hand with relief before he swung back with a deep breath- _It was now or never._

Axe connected with flesh and the Dane went down to his knees. A sickening sound filled the clearing as he pulled the blade from between the man’s shoulder blades, hitching a breath at the hit. But it was a fraction of a second as another Dane came rambling toward him, Osferth swinging his axe again to parry the sword attack. He ducked swiftly and tore his axe through the man’s belly, kicking him backward to free his blade from the body.

He heard a yell and out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Finan lunge at the man hovering over him, taking the black haired Dane out at the knees and landing on top of him, regaining his sword in a matter of moments. 

Sihtric was pulling his dagger from the neck of another and soon there were only two left- the black haired Dane pinned beneath Finan’s thighs and a smaller Dane with wispy red hair and fear clear in his eyes. Osferth raised his eyebrows as he walked toward him, and it did not take long before the Dane turned on his heel, keen on running from the clearing. But Sihtric was on the other side of him, dagger dripping with blood.

“I am not seeking a fight,” the red headed Dane pleaded, hands raised with palms facing outward, turning to keep both men in his vision. “I am happy to just ride back now, as if I were never here-”

“You fucking coward,” the black haired Dane groaned. 

Finan let out a chuckle even as he pressed his knee deeper into the Dane’s chest. 

“You will just tell the rest of your men where we are,” Osferth sighed. “We cannot let you go.”

“He will,” the black haired Dane said, though his voice was garbled by the pressure of Finan’s sword against his neck. “He is a coward and a liar.”

“You two sound like swell friends,” Finan grinned. 

“Are you going to kill me or not?” the black haired Dane asked. 

“Aye, I almost forgot-” and with a swift pull of his sword, the Dane beneath his knees fell silent.

Near at the same time, Sihtric pulled up close to the red haired Dane and dragged his dagger across the man’s throat. He stumbled to his knees and Sihtric caught him, carefully letting him sink to the ground. It was not a vicious kill and Osferth appreciated the finesse. But now five men lay dead around them and as Osferth’s eyes scanned the clearing, he sighed again, knowing that there was work to be done. 

“Uhtred’s nursemaid!” Sihtric said suddenly.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Finan mused with a nod of his head. 

They were nearly finished taking the men into the wood, Sihtric and Osferth dragging the last two by the ankles as Finan pulled any suitable silver from their bodies. They would need rations and repairs when they reached Winchester, and perhaps a hefty visit to the Two Cranes alehouse, and every little bit would help. 

“You mean Ama?”

Osferth did not mean to say her name aloud, a flush of pink creeping into his cheeks as the two other men whipped their heads in his direction. A hint of a smirk pulled at Sihtric’s lips and there was a wicked gleam behind Finan’s eyes. He averted their gaze, instead focusing on lining up his corpse with the rest. 

“What is that look?” Sihtric asked, amused. “Do you like her, Osferth?”

“She is just a nice girl,” he said stiffly, letting the man’s ankles drop to the ground. 

“A nice, _pretty_ girl, baby monk,” Finan corrected. 

“I have no recollection of her face,” Osferth said quickly.

There was a guffaw of laughter from the two men and Osferth groaned, his shoulders sagging as he turned back toward the camp. His body ached and his skin felt hot and just the mention of her name was enough to render him stupid, so he knew there was no more use in pretending. But still, he did not feel as if his friends deserved anymore satisfaction and there was still a fire to build and food to warm so he left them there giggling alone surrounded by dead Danes. 

But there was something there, wasn’t there? Between him and the Danish nursemaid who cared for Uhtred’s children. She was kind and sweet and had this little dimple in her cheek when she smiled that set Osferth’s world upside down. He rubbed at his chest before collecting the pile of wood from earlier, thankful he did not scatter it about in his hurry to reach his friends- his idiot friends who were still laughing behind him in the forest.

“Do you think there will actually be peace?” he asked sometime later, the three of them sprawled out by the flickering flames of the campfire, bellies full with bread and cheese smuggled from the Winchester palace. 

Finan adjusted the fur under his neck before stretching out on his bedroll, his brows raising as he considered the question. “No, I’m thinkin’ if tonight was any indication, we’ve got some rogues to worry about-”

“Aethelwold’s failure will reflect poorly on Cnut,” Sihtric agreed. “Which will drive a wedge between him and his men.”

“And the King is young-” Finan said. “An easy target for greedy bastards.”

“Do you think he will be a good king?” Osferth asked, his voice quiet.

Finan and Sihtric did not respond immediately, a quiet glance passing between them that Osferth did not miss. He shrunk back on his elbows as his eyes watched an ember spark from the logs and land on the dirt beside his ankle. In his time spent with Uhtred, he was often too preoccupied with their adventures and trials to think of his father or the children who would be his half-siblings too much. In fact, it had been a grand distraction, to try and follow in his uncle’s footsteps. But now, with his father dead and his half-brother King, it was a stark reminder of what his life could have been- or maybe that was a fool’s thought, as well. What bastard was ever made King? 

“He’s _young_ ,” Finan repeated, his eyes meeting Osferth’s from across the flames. “A good king is made, baby monk, and he’s got a lot to live up to.”

“You know, sometimes I wonder-” Osferth started but he shook his head, laughing in spite of himself. “No- it is stupid. Alfred did not want Winchester to know who I was- spending time with Edward and Aethelflaed would have been out of the question.”

“My father enjoyed keeping me around,” Sihtric said, as he drew his knees to his chest. “It was a fun game to have me as his slave, and Sven- that idiot turd, it was painful to see what he was given when it wasn’t deserved at all-”

“A bastard’s life,” he said with a tilt of his head.

“A bastard’s life,” Sihtric nodded, smiling. “But we have our family, now. It is better, isn’t it?”

“It’s not so bad,” he replied, as he let his head roll back, his eyes catching the stars above him. He let his gaze linger there, counting however many he could, wondering if his uncle had found his family in Uhtred, too. 

“Why don’t ya both get some rest?” Finan said as he straightened up, poking at the fire with the tip of his sword. “I’ll take first watch-”

“Are you sure?” Osferth asked.

“Aye,” the Irishman replied and there was a warmth behind his eyes that somehow settled Osferth. “Besides, ya might’ve helped us out of a pinch before. I think that deserves sleep.”

He considered this, a breath of laughter catching in his throat as he shook his head. He had not known what to expect when he swore to Uhtred, only hoping that he would become the kind of man that his uncle would have been proud of, that his mother would have been proud of if she were still with him. He did not know he would find warriors he would willingly put his life on the line to save. He did not know he would find brothers. Sihtric was right. It was better. A smirk tugged at his lips as he settled down on his bedroll, shimmying his body against the furs as he let his breath begin to settle. 

“I did save you both, didn’t I?” he said as he let his eyes close.

“Don’t let it get to ya head,” Finan grumbled.

**Author's Note:**

> Getting into the mind of the baby monk was genuinely so much fun! I hope you guys liked this. And if anyone here reads The Lion's Roar, this kind of became a little prelude to that story. I couldn't help but connect them. 💕


End file.
